


No Way Out Of Here

by wumbo_requiem



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sharing a Bed, abuse of ellipses, it isn't super dark but it could be upsetting, its more just references to disordered eating, no beta we die like men, theres no real time frame of events, this could happen anywhere in the canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wumbo_requiem/pseuds/wumbo_requiem
Summary: Skwisgaar deals with depression; Toki tries his hardest to cheer him up.
Relationships: Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	No Way Out Of Here

Skwisgaar is in a slump.

More accurately, he’s wrapped in a black blanket, sitting atop his white bed, tired, cold, and hungry. He’s in a hole he wants to get out of, and can  _ see _ the end of, but can’t find the ladder. 

He hasn’t seen a professional about it, but Skwisgaar is pretty sure he’s depressed, or something. Whatever it is, it makes him feel heavy, like he’s carrying a stack of stones on his back, and he hasn’t gotten out of bed in hours because of the weight. 

His Explorer lies on the floor, untouched, where it’s been collecting dust for days. He just can’t play it. When he tries, his fingers fail. Melodies he knows by heart come out flat, distorted down by his own melancholia. It’s the part he hates the most. He hates feeling useless, to his band members and to himself. He hates not being perfect, or as close to perfect as he’s so used to coming.

The window is open; the curtains rustle inward, blown by the cool breeze. Skwisgaar stares out of it, getting lost in his thoughts, and solemnly admiring the grey sky, and the way the lack of sun colours the grass differently. It’s moody, it’s pretty. But it doesn’t matter. He hasn’t left his quarters in days. It has been days since he’s stepped into the kitchen, let alone venture outside…

Suddenly, there’s a knock on his door. Skwisgaar collects himself, turning his gaze to the door. He assumes it’s a Klokateer, here to bring him his daily meal. He hasn’t been eating much.. He thinks about food, a lot, but he just can’t bring himself to eat normally. His stomach begs him, but he’s not hungry. That’s why Charles resorted to sending him meals, via Klokateer. Skwisgaar normally eats some of it, and lets the rest go to the yard wolves.    
It would be a shame to let it go to waste. Skwisgaar wasn’t raised like that. 

“Hullo, comes in,” the monotones. “Door ams, eugh, unlockeds…”

But it isn’t a Klokateer that steps through the door. It’s Toki, holding a tray of hot chocolate mugs and an assortment of fruit slices.

“Tokis? What ams you doings here?” Skwisgaar asks, surprised but not disappointed. He hadn’t been  _ hoping _ for one of his band members to walk through that door, and spend time with him. But, since it’s happening, he welcomes it.

Toki sets the tray down on the bedside table, and plunks down next to Skwisgaar on the bed. Skwisgaar wordlessly offers him a blanket, suddenly aware he’s hogging  _ all _ of them. Toki politely declines with the wave of his hand.

“I haven’t seens you in a while, Skwisgaar. I was worried you wasn’t eating! And… I was worrieds about how you’s doings up here, all alones.” His eyes are full of sympathy. He hands a hot mug full of frothy, half-melted marshmallows to Skwisgaar, who acquiesces. A seed of warmth is planted in his hands and spreads its roots throughout his body. And the smell is enticing. He takes a sip; not bad.

“T’anks yous, Toki, for yous con-sorn, buts…” A sip. Another. He sighs. Stalling isn’t working. What can he say? “It’s just dat… Well, I ams in a bit of a, eughh, whats would you calls it?”

“You’s depressed, Skwisgaar,” Toki states with a level of maturity the other guitarist has never seen in him.Skwisgaar is taken aback. Toki continues. “I’m nots a doctors, but I knows, Skwisgaar. It ams clear to see dats you’s in a bad place right nows… you wants to talks about it?”

Well, that was a loaded question. If he denies it, then he’s a liar, because Toki is right. If he says no, he'd be wasting Toki’s time. And if he says yes… well, he’s telling the truth. And that’s the hardest option of all. No one  _ wants _ to talk about it. He doesn’t even think he has the energy. But he  _ needs _ it. He didn’t think he would get this sort of opportunity, let alone from Toki… didn’t think he’d be this empathetic. Clearly he understands more about this kind of pain than Skwisgaar previously realized.

“Eugh, ja, acktuallies… ja, I wants tos.” He swallows more hot chocolate and winces as it burns his throat. He chases it down with a bite of strawberry. It’s the first morsel of food he’s tasted in hours and it amplifies the emptiness of his stomach, like a drop of something landing in a resonant crystal bowl. Toki is looking at him expectantly to start. Skwisgaar feels empty. He doesn’t know how to start, or where. Tears sting at his eyes, and he curls into himself, pulling the blankets tighter around his fragile frame. Toki puts a hand on his arm.

“Takes yous time, Skwisgaar, Toki ams here fors you, and onlys you.” 

Skwisgaar breaks down his walls and sobs for him, feeling Toki rub small circles on his arm through the blanket. He wants to rip the blanket off and pull him in on top of himself and absorb his warmth and happiness and start over. He wishes he never stopped eating and he wishes he was happy. Where is that ladder? Where is his fucking ladder out of this pit? 

He opens his eyes. Toki is still there, waiting patiently. When Skwisgaar calms, his companion wipes his tears from his face. Skwisgaar gazes upon his gentle expression, and his breathing stills.

“Oukays… I don’ts knows how to exblains it, Toki, sometimes I just… I just wants to disappears… into de wind, forevers.” It sounded more poetic in his head. Out in the open, it just sounds… embarrassing? Stupid? Unimportant? “I justs… don’ts feels like I gots a place here.”

Toki isn’t stupid- his face grows somber, and it’s clear that he catches the dark undertones of what Skwisgaar is implying. Skwisgaar  _ knows _ Toki isn’t a baby, especially with the maturity he’s displayed tonight, but… for some reason, he sugar coats his words for him anyway. Skwisgaar doesn’t want Toki to have to deal with all this emotional baggage any more than he already has.

Nevertheless, Toki adheres to his allegory. “Well, if you weres to  _ disappears _ , den you woulds miss out on so much! Like…” Toki shivers in the breeze and looks out the window. Skwisgaar follows his gaze. Outside, the world has turned dark blue, and is speckled with cottony clouds and bright stars. “You woulds miss de skies, and de moons. De sunsets, de sunrise.” He pauses. “And dey would misses you.”

Skwisgaar sniffs and nods. The meaning isn’t lost on him, either. He holds his arms out, inviting Toki to crawl inside the safety of the blankets with him. It’s a bold move, and something that Skwisgaar would never normally do, but it’s an impulse that he acts on now. Toki complies, fitting snugly into the crook of Skwisgaar’s arm. The blond draws the blanket around them both tightly, so the draft can’t get them, and Toki continues.

“You woulds be missing hots-choco-lates! Like de ones I mades you…”

Right. Skwisgaar picks his mug back up. It’s gotten a bit cooler but he doesn’t mind. He passes Toki his, and they clink mugs. It’s a simple act, but it makes Skwisgaar feel warm all over. They finish their drinks in silence.

“Pass de trays, too.” Skwisgaar does so, and places it in front of them so they can snack while they talk. “You needs to get more foods into yous.” Skwisgaar takes another strawberry, reluctantly putting it past his lips. “Dats good. Dats a good starts,” Toki encourages him. 

Skwisgaar finally feels like talking. “I woulds be missinks de guitars… I already misses de guitars, it ams just dat… I don’ts feels like playings it.” It’s hard for him to admit, especially since  _ he’s _ the one who always hounds Toki for not practicing. At least when  _ Toki _ doesn’t practice he still has the gall to show his face in the studio. Skwisgaar can’t do that. It’s part of the reason why he’s been holed up in his room for days. He bites his lip, staring at his spindly fingers. He feels as if he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Hej, don’t beats yourself up overs it, o-kays?” Toki rests his head on Skwisgaar’s shoulder, which grabs his attention. “Toki can  _ tells _ when you’s doing dat.”

Of course he can. Toki knows Skwisgaar better than he knows the fretboard, that’s something that Skwisgaar is absolutely sure of. You ask him to play a “c”, he can’t find it. You ask him how his pal Skwisgaar’s feeling… he can read him like a book.

Skwisgaar sighs. “Dis ams a difficults feelings, Tokis.”

“It ams a difficults  _ times _ , but you’s gonna pulls through it! I knows it.”

“Hows?” Skwisgaar’s voice escapes his lips soft and scared.

Toki looks up at him. “Because you wills. You has tos, and you will finds a way.” He reaches up and pats his cheek- a bold move on Toki’s part, but Skwisgaar allows it. They’re so close already, they’re practically generating the same heat. “You always does.”

Skwisgaar closes his eyes. Instead of seeing the same cold, barren wasteland that he’s used to finding inside his head, he sees something like a glimmer of hope.The glint of sunlight bouncing off the rung of a metal ladder, propped up against the damp inside of a dark hole. And when he opens his eyes, Toki is there. Closes them, opens them. The ladder, Toki. A realization bubbles in his chest. He doesn’t want to put it in words, that would make it too real.

Toki withdraws his hand, but Skwisgaar catches his wrist and puts it back. “Dat felts… nice. Please, don’t stops doesing it.”

With a smile, the brunette goes back to stroking his cheek, running his knuckles ever so gently over the soft skin where tears not long ago fell. He feeds Skwisgaar a piece of pineapple while he’s at it, and Skwisgaar lets him. And he lets him do it again, with a blueberry. Toki feeds himself and Skwisgaar alternately until the fruit is gone, and by the end of it, Skwisgaar feels recharged. He doesn’t feel like moving, but he has the energy to do it now if he needs too. Admittedly, it’s a good feeling.

“Toki, t’anks you… fors takings care ofs me, when I can’ts does it myselfs,” he says, setting the tray back on the table with the mugs.

“You wants me to stays wiff you tonights? In case you gets lonelies, or needs somet’ings?”

Skwisgaar considers this, but not very hard. The answer is pretty obvious to him; he runs his fingers through the ends of Toki’s soft hair, and down his muscular back. The intimacy, after days and days of isolation, feels great. “Ja… dats would bes nice, I t’inks.” He cracks a smile at Toki, who gives him a tight hug. “You can stays, until I says you can’ts,” Skwisgaar adds, hoping his controlling edge will earn him back some shred of dignity.

“Dat’s greats! You looks so much better alreadies, Skwisgaar,” Toki gushes. “You gots some of yous colour back, and look- yous  _ smile _ !”

Skwisgaar does his best to frown, but it just makes him burst into laughter. Once Toki’s pointed it out, he can’t contain it.

“You’s laughing too! Ha-ha! Don’ts you  _ miss _ dis, Skwisgaar?” Then he tickles Skwisgaar’s side, something he is not ready for.

“Aagh! Stops it! Stops it!!” Skwisgaar involuntarily thrashes about, legs sticking out of the blanket cocoon as he tries to slip out of Toki’s reach. He’s too tangled up to make it far. “I’ll pees on you! I swears to gods!”

Toki’s devilish grin draws nearer, his fingers in prime tickling position. “We don’ts believes in gods, Skwisgaar.”

Somehow, that is the most threatening thing Skwisgaar has ever heard Toki say.

Skwisgaar forms a “T” with his hands. “Okays, times-out, pal. Huegh-” he pulls himself off the bed with some effort and walks over to the window, shutting it. The residual cold air pricks at his exposed arms like ice cubes. His room has become a fridge. 

As he walks back to the bed, where Toki is now straightening out the blankets so they can both lie under them, Skwisgaar realizes something. For the last five minutes, he’s forgotten why Toki was even  _ there. _ He’s forgotten what he was sad about before Toki came. And that… that’s something Skwisgaar wants to hold on to. This rare, precious domesticity. 

Toki turns off the light, and climbs under the covers, guiding Skwisgaar to him with his hand. They both fit together nicely in the bed- Skwisgaar holds onto Toki around the waist, and feels Toki’s arms caressing his back. Their closeness is soothing, and once again their heat overpowers the cold.

Never in a million billion years did Skwisgaar think he’d end up in bed like this with his band’s rhythm guitarist. It’s innocent enough, just unexpected. But Skwisgaar is too far gone. Too sleepy to push him out of his bed, and out of his life again. He’s enjoying it.

And he knows if he ever denies it, Toki will call him on his bullshit. That’s something he’s just going to have to live with.

Skwisgaar sighs, sinking further into his pillow, this time not dragged under the weight of a stone, but lulled, by the soft touch of waves on the shore. Falling forever into the dark, comforting depths of the pitchblack sea. The warm waters envelope him, he is at home.

As he drifts into unconsciousness, he listens to Toki’s soft breathing, and pulls him closer. He feels loved, wanted. There’s this profound intimacy of just falling asleep with someone without having sex with them first. Nothing like that even had to cross his mind for him to let Toki stay. That’s what makes him feel loved. That’s what makes this so special.

He thinks about the night, replaying the soft touches, the smiles, the tears, and the highlights of their conversation in his head dozens of times, each time his smile growing more relaxed. Maybe he’s not fixed. Maybe he still feels the cold, in the pit of his stomach, where his hopes and dreams and self worth are supposed to be. Maybe he hasn’t made his way out of the pit yet. But this is a start. 

  
  


It’s a pretty damned good start. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to deal with the sads and it cheered me up a little- I hope it can help others to feel happy if they are hurting, too.  
> Comments and Kudos appreciated! <3


End file.
